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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921209">A Quarrel of Misunderstandings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismene_Jane/pseuds/Ismene_Jane'>Ismene_Jane</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seven Days of Fandoms [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), I Don't Even Know, Light Angst, M/M, Mating Rituals, Misunderstandings, Other, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Apocalypse, bird mating dances, more in line with the ending of the book than the show, none of that going to heaven or hell after happens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:48:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismene_Jane/pseuds/Ismene_Jane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley's ready to take the next step with Aziraphale, little does he know there's something that has to happen first.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seven Days of Fandoms [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Quarrel of Misunderstandings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncurableRomantic/gifts">IncurableRomantic</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This work is HEAVILY influenced by Birds of a Feather by idiopathicsmile. If you haven't read that, go do it immediately, it's fabulous. </p><p>But while I was reading that fic I was like, "But what about the mating dances???" </p><p>I watched many a video clip of birds' mating dances for this fic. Please wander over to YouTube and do the same. </p><p>Also I have footnotes for this but seeing as I'm an idiot who doesn't know how to format, they're just in parentheses in the fic itself. *shrugs*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It happened the night after. </p><p> </p><p>The actual night of the Apoca-almost was spent on a bus that was supposed to only go as far as Basingstoke but found itself in London. The driver was bewildered by this development, but her bewilderment was nothing to what she felt when she saw her bank balance the next day. She didn’t remember buying a lottery ticket but it was the only explanation. (1. She ignored the fact that no one ever came to collect taxes on her sudden windfall and every time she thought about it, something would come up to distract her. )</p><p>Crowley spent most of the bus ride surprisingly alert, owing to the feel of Aziraphale’s beloved hand in his own, a sense of wonder pervading his soul every second. No sleeping through that, I’m afraid.<br/>
<br/>
When they got back to Crowley’s flat, they were both so tired that Aziraphale couldn’t even summon the energy for a proper scathing remark on his interior design. Crowley simply tugged the angel along into the bedroom and used the last of his strength to miracle the bed into something much more tartan and fuzzy and then they both fell into it and sleep at almost the same moment.</p><p>In the morning (afternoon, really, but saving the world takes a lot out of a celestial being, okay?), Crowley woke to the sudden recollection on why he never slept clothed. (2. The last time was in the Regency era and involved a top hat soaked in mercury and satin trousers and that’s all he’s willing to say on the matter.)</p><p>His leather pants were chafing <em> everywhere </em> and he’d even left his glasses on. They were ruined, naturally. So he miracled his clothes away with a snap and of course Aziraphale chose precisely that moment to wake up, his sleep-heavy smile disappearing into a gasp as he took in Crowley’s naked form, flailed, and promptly ended up head first on the floor. </p><p>Crowley winced at the noise and covered himself with a pillow. Aziraphale had taken the duvet with him when he decided to say hello to the sleek hardwood of Crowley’s bedroom floor. </p><p>“Sorry, Angel,” Crowley said, relieved when Aziraphale righted himself and shuffled to a standing position, smoothing his incredibly wrinkled linen suit. </p><p>“Not at all, dear boy, not at all,”Aziraphale responded, clearly still flummoxed. Crowley looked on, amused, as he ran a hand down his rumpled attire, looking everywhere but at Crowley. “I just think we’ve missed a step or two.” He finally met Crowley’s (now incredibly confused) gaze and smiled tightly. </p><p>This didn’t last long, for his expression opened up to something akin to wonder when he saw Crowley’s eyes. </p><p>“My dear,” he sighed. Crowley was even more confused for a moment before he remembered that he’d miracled away his bent glasses with the rest of his clothes. He felt the embarrassment crawling up the nape of his neck and ducked his head. </p><p>Aziraphale immediately climbed back onto the bed, reached out a hand and laid it whisper-soft against Crowley’s cheek. Crowley gulped, his insides doing fanatical somersaults when he looked up and into Aziraphale’s gorgeous eyes. </p><p>“Nggk,” he said, eloquently. (3. He was amazed, as always that this was the noise assigned to him by his maker and author whenever he was having A Moment, but that’s the way the Holy Water fizzled, as demons say.)</p><p>Aziraphale leaned forward and Crowley stopped breathing outright. He didn’t need to, anyway, and he’d been waiting for this moment for millenia. He leaned into Aziraphale’s perfect face and moved to touch their lips together--</p><p>Only to meet nothing because Aziraphale jerked back and retreated from the bed. </p><p>“Well,” he said, brightly, as Crowley struggled to shove down one more drop of disappointment into the well he’d been feeding for six thousand years. (4. He had to keep it on another plane of existence because at this point it was big enough to drown the entire Northern Hemisphere.) </p><p>“We should get back to the shop and see what’s left!” </p><p>Crowley nodded, miracling himself dressed and bespectacled and he stood up as well.<br/>
<br/>
“Lead the way, Angel.” </p><p>***</p><p>They made it to the bookstore in one piece and spent an inordinate amount of time marveling over the fact that it was standing, burn-free, and full of all the books Aziraphale loved. (5. And some he didn’t, it must be said. He’d never heard of a Captain of Underpants and wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to.)</p><p>They spent some time wandering around the shop, before Aziraphale called for his favorite sushi and they opened an insanely expensive bottle of wine and settled on the couch to eat. </p><p>Crowley watched avidly as Aziraphale ate, as he always did. But things were different, somehow. He could feel the shift in the air around them, it was full of anticipation and also more bold about whatever this <em> thing </em> was between them. (6. He’d be fascinated to find that there were entire tomes dedicated to their relationship. Humans are, after all, much more perceptive than either he or Aziraphale had ever given them credit for.)</p><p>Crowley wasn’t wearing his glasses, for one thing. His gaze naked and appreciative. Aziraphale was staring <em> back </em>, for another. Openly. And Crowley was sure he wasn’t imagining that Aziraphale was eating somewhat more...sensually than normal. </p><p>His breath hitched as Aziraphale moaned unabashedly at a certain piece of fish. Closing his eyes as he chewed and savored the morsel. </p><p>Crowley could feel his trousers getting tight as his current effort began to stand up and take notice.</p><p>“<em> Angel </em>,” he breathed, “Is this…? Is it the time? Finally?” He’d never been so scared in his entire existence. If Aziraphale said no, if he didn’t want--</p><p>Aziraphale leaped up off the couch and stood in front of Crowley. He was wringing his hands and Crowley felt his insides shatter. </p><p>“Oh,” he managed, throat closing around the enormous weight of his hopes being shoved down. “Right.” He was mortified to feel tears on his cheeks, demons don’t cry. (7. They do, in fact. But usually out of frustration or rage and always before something mightily unpleasant happened to the poor soul who’d given them that emotion.)</p><p>He wiped his face and put on a wry smile. “Right then, nevermind.” He glanced up at Aziraphale, and was smacked in the face with </p><p><em> Wings </em>. </p><p>Aziraphale had extended his wings and Crowley couldn’t breathe again. They were magnificent, they were stunning, they were--</p><p>Being brought into a circle around Aziraphale’s face? </p><p>“Nggk.” Crowley had no idea what the fuck was going on. Aziraphale had brought his wings to form a great circle around his neck. Like a giant ruffled collar with his head poking out of the top. And then he started doing… <em> something </em>. </p><p>That’s it, that’s all Crowley had. He had no explanation for why his angel, his best friend, would possibly feel it necessary to be moving his head side-to-side in a rapid fashion. What would compel his very proper bookseller to bob his head up and down like that. Aziraphale was moving his head in these ways and stepping his feet in some kind of syncopated rhythm. Every so often he would wrench his head all the way back, baring his neck to Crowley, before slamming it back forward and resuming the bobbing/side-to-side motion.<br/>
<br/>
It would have been hysterically funny if Crowley wasn’t so shocked. </p><p>“Aziraphale!” he finally managed, once the angel had started bowing down in rapid shudders, making some sort of painful wheezing sound in his throat. </p><p>Aziraphale stopped, suddenly, drawing his wings away and behind his back so quickly it knocked the wine off the low table between them, spilling everywhere. </p><p>Crowley miracled it away with a thought. “What the dev-- hol-- <em> fuck </em> are you doing?” </p><p>Aziraphale looked <em> gutted </em> . And Crowley was mortified. His brain was screaming ‘you broke the angel, <em> do something </em> you MORON!’ </p><p>But before he could come up with a way to fix his error, Aziraphale seemed to steel himself to say, “My dance, Crowley. What else would it be?” </p><p>Crowley had clearly lost the plot. Either that or Aziraphale had. Someone was insane in this room, and he would figure it out before something catastrophic happened. (8. The last time they’d had a terrible misunderstanding, WWII had started. He didn’t <em> think </em> he’d caused it but he wasn’t taking any chances.)</p><p>“Your dance?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light and inviting. “What dance, Angel?” </p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes went wide. “You mean…” he stammered. “Demons don’t dance for… this?”</p><p>“For what, Angel? You have to tell me what’s happening.” </p><p>Aziraphale squirmed a little more while Crowley held his ground and tried to keep his well of disappointment from manifesting in the shop and drowning them both. </p><p>“Angels,” Aziraphale said, so much fear in his voice. “They… we… do… mating. Dances.” </p><p>Crowley’s knees gave out, and he fell heavily onto the couch. </p><p>“Mating??” he wheezed, gripping his knees. “You, and me, and you want, with me?” </p><p>“Yes, dear boy, of course.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course, <em> nothing </em> , Aziraphale!” he jerked his head up to look at the angel. “Mere <em> hours </em> ago you were saying you didn’t want to run away to Alpha Centauri with me, telling me we weren’t <em> friends </em> , and now you’re doing a <em> sex dance for me </em>???” </p><p>“It’s not just a sex dance,” Aziraphale mumbled, chagrined. </p><p>“SEMANTICS!” Crowley was really revving up for a full-blown meltdown. “You’re bird dancing at me because you want me and I was just supposed to <em> know </em>???” </p><p>“Well how was I to know you lose the urge to perform mating dances when you become a demon??” Aziraphale said back, voice raised almost to a shout. “We’ve never discussed this!!” </p><p>“OF COURSE WE HAVEN’T,” Crowley bellowed. “Because you’ve made it very <em> clear </em> that you didn’t WANT ME THAT WAY!!!” He clenched his hands into fists and made to stand. He needed time, he needed copious amounts of wine, he needed--</p><p>Any and all trains of thought were cut off as Aziraphale climbed unceremoniously into his lap. (9. It was a train collision the likes of which have never been seen, before or since.) </p><p>“I’ve always wanted you that way, dearest,” Aziraphale whispered, so close to Crowley’s face that he could feel his angel’s breath on his lips. “But they would have <em> obliterated </em> you. And I’d rather be discorporated for millennia than see that happen. So I stayed away and I waited and now Adam has said that they’re to leave us alone and they will, so I can finally tell you how much I ador--”</p><p>Crowley sealed his lips to Aziraphale’s. </p><p>To try to describe the feelings in him at their first kiss would be like trying to describe what it feels like to be inside a supernova. It was everything, it was cosmic, and perfect, and his corporation began to shake violently with it. </p><p>“Oh dear,” Aziraphale mumbled as he ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “We should get you horizontal, my love.” </p><p>Crowley had never miracled anyone anywhere so quickly. </p><p>***</p><p>Later, after the first round of climaxes (10. And second and third and twelfth and who even is counting anymore?), Crowley started chuckling to himself. Aziraphale looked up from where he was sprawled across Crowley’s torso to smile at the demon. “What is it my love?” he asked, reaching for Crowley’s nearest hand. </p><p>Crowley took it and said, “I can’t believe you call that dancing.” </p><p>Aziraphale pounced, catching Crowley’s laughing mouth in a kiss. “I’ll show you dancing,” he muttered, moving to enter Crowley once again. </p><p>Turns out, they were great dance partners indeed. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Truly hope you enjoyed! I love this fandom. So SO much. </p><p>Comments or kudos would be amazing!<br/>Also this is unbeta'd so if I fucked up massively, let a girl know.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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